“Yes,” Harrell agreed, his expression losing its false pleasantness. “I’m not pleased you took her but it isn’t a matter that can’t be overcome.”
“By what means? Another Grossett?”
“By many other means.” Harrell stood. “Here’s what I’m offering. You leave Lyssa and I will pay you handsomely—”
“I don’t want the money.”
“You are the only man in London who doesn’t then. But this isn’t about only you. There are your sisters and their children to think about.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yes! And let me assure you, Mr. Campion, you are very blackmailable.” His features set, Harrell continued, “We both know your sisters and their children would starve without you, or even worse. Instead, I’m offering you passage to wherever youand your familywant to go, and more money than your poor Irish brain could ever have thought possible.”
“And if I don’t take your offer?” Ian asked.
“I’ll destroy you. I’ll turn you in to the authorities. You might even be hanged. It depends on how irritated we are with the Irish right now and whether the gin crowd needs a show. At best, you’ll be transported. Six months in the belly of a merchantman bound for Australia, being treated little better than a slave. Your family can go with you. After all, they harbored you.”
There it was, the true threat.
“So what will it be, Campion? How far are you willing to go with this little ‘love’ charade?”
Anger settled cold and hard within Ian. Here it was, one more bloody injustice, and he had no choice. “She’ll hate you for this.”
“I can live with that,” Harrell answered. “I can’t live with her married to you.”
“Because I’m Irish?”
“Because you don’t have enough and never will.”
Ian shook his head. “You had nothing at one time.”
“You’re not me,” was the short response.
And that was it. Ian knew he had no choice. He could not see Maeve or the boys braving the brutal trip to Australia for his sake. The adults might make the trip, but not the littlest ones. And his sisters could not part with their children. They would not leave them behind.
He came to a hard decision. “You’re wrong, you know,” he told Harrell. “I’m more like you than is comfortable. Where do I get the money?”
Lyssa watched her father walk out of the inn followed by Parker, and knew Ian had left.
Her father climbed into the coach, taking the seat across from her and her stepmother. He knocked on the roof, a signal for the driver to go.
The duchess took her hand in silent commiseration.
“He couldn’t be gone,” Lyssa said calmly, “not without you doing something terrible.”
“I didn’t do anything ‘terrible,’ ” her father answered without looking at her. “We both decided his leaving was what was best for you.”
“He wouldn’t leave me,” she repeated.
“He did,” her father said.
Her heart wanted to deny the truth of his words, while her mind knew he did not lie. Her father was too calm, too satisfied. Parker was quiet, his expression unusually somber.
Lyssa’s first urge was to scream, to rant and to rave—but then she sensed they braced themselves for just that possibility.
Instead, she took pride and courage in hand. “What if I’m carrying his baby?”
“Then we shall see what could be done,” her father said.
